01/19/2010

Adiós, Peru

And just like that, it was
over. My last few days in Peru
went quickly — on Thursday we flew to the mountains of Cuzco,
the tourist capital of the country and popular jump-off spot for the famed Machu Picchu. Even with
the plethora of medicinal coca products that I consumed (leaves, beer and lots of tea), the altitude
still took its toll. Each night I would wake up, confused, gasping
for breath.

We saw Machu
Picchu and the ruins of Cuzco — beautiful and sad at the same time, maybe the most obvious insight I saw into
how the Spaniards decimated this place. I did some final interviews for my last
story, came down with a nasty cold, and then I left on a four-flight marathon
back to Chicago.

Finally, with the finish
line in sight, I went through customs in Orlando.
The customs officer, a lifeless crank of a guy, stamped my forms and asked how
I’d liked Peru.

“I liked it,” I said in
English. “Very different. Very poor.”

Oversimplified? You bet. I’d
been on planes for 15 hours at that point, and wanted nothing more than to get
past this guy and go to sleep on the airport floor. If he asked me again, I
might answer better: “It’s maybe the most authentic place I’ve ever been.”